Beware

by Shanora Williams

  “Thank you… for taking me out tonight,” she whispers.

  “No problem,” I respond.

  Silence fills the space between us. The leather crunches beneath her as she adjusts in her seat. “Do you… wanna come up for a drink or two? I have some wine and half a bottle of Jack left.”

  I shake my head, combing a few fingers through my hair. “You should get some rest. Maybe calm down—”

  “No,” she snaps. “Don’t tell me to calm down. All I need is some company.” Leaning forward, her lavender scent flowing past my nostrils, she places the palm of her hand on my lap. “Please?” she begs in a whisper. I meet her eyes. They’re still wet. Still sad.

  Fuck.

  Why is she doing this to me?

  “Alright,” I murmur. “Just let me stop by my place first. I’ll be over in a few.” A gentle, child-like smile stretches across her lips, and immediately, she yanks her hand away and nods.

  “Great. See you in a bit.”

  She hops out the car, shuts the door behind her, and struts toward the double doors. I watch her the entire time as she swings her ass. Her curls bounce with each step, and the urge to hop out of the car, lock all her hair in one fist just to keep it in place overwhelms me, but I fight against it and head to the parking deck of my building. I give the valet my keys, and head for the elevator.

  As I enter my condo, I can’t stop thinking about how furious she was with me. I hate that I feel bad. I feel guilty. Normally, I wouldn’t care, but there’s something about her that’s making me feel a certain way about all of this. It’s making me think twice.

  As I grab a box of condoms, I know going to her place to fill the aching hole inside her is wrong. I know she’s only inviting me over to forget. To stop thinking about whatever’s bothering her. I know I’m just an escape—another route to neglect her problems. Even if it is temporarily.

  I shouldn’t be getting close to her. Getting too close is dangerous for both of us. Spending time with her is wrong, but something inside me enjoys it. There’s some part of me that likes her laugh, her smile, her jokes, her careless attitude. I don’t want to get close, but the closer I get, the less I feel like I’m a monster or a threat. The more I feel… alive. Human.

  But I wonder if any of this is real. I wonder if I only feel this way out of pity or if it’s something else. Something much deeper and much more terrifying. Something I know I don’t want to face.

  Inside, I know can’t deny what I feel. But on the outside, I can pretend not to care. I can pretend that she means nothing to me, and that Jonah was only a friend who encountered the bad side of business.

  She’s only been around for a few weeks now, but there’s some sort of connection between us. A connection full of lust, guilt, shame, anger, and something else. Something completely unexplainable. Something complex, yet so simple that I refuse to admit to it.

  I won’t admit it.

  And I know she never will.

  Ace is here in less than ten minutes, which I find surprising. I didn’t think he’d show after witnessing the havoc I caused back at Jonah’s.

  But a part of me is relieved when I hear him knock on the door. It feels good not to be alone. While he’s here, I don’t have to think about it.

  After pouring myself another glass of wine and Ace a short glass of Jack, we stand in the kitchen, awkwardly sipping our drinks. Well, I’m awkwardly sipping anyway. I try and think of something to say. Something light and completely off topic.

  “So, have you talked to Bianca yet?” I ask.

  “No.” He sighs. “Called her cell, but she didn’t pick up. She must be out tramping somewhere.”

  I shake my head, fighting a laugh. “I doubt that.”

  He looks at me over his glass. “Why do you say that?”

  “Bianca has way too much class to be out tramping.” I give him a confident smirk, but he simply laughs.

  “That statement right there proves you know nothing about Bianca. She’s not as classy and civilized as she makes herself out to be.”

  I narrow my eyes in a playful manner. “I don’t believe you.”

  “Should.” He places his empty glass down, and I turn for the bottle, topping him off. He nods, and after I finish my glass of wine, I go for the Jack as well. I need something strong.

  The kitchen silences as I down my first glass. I pour another, and Ace chuckles low and deep.

  I look up, collecting a breath as I finish my second. “What?” I breathe.

  “Shouldn’t be drinking so much.”

  I sigh, pouring a little more. “I need it.”

  He stares at me as I bring my glass to my lips. I take a small sip to hopefully ease his concern, and a small hint of relief fills his eyes. As he takes a large gulp of his, I realize how foolish I must’ve made myself look earlier. I feel like a fool for inviting him over after letting him see that wild, senseless side of me.

  So I say the first thing that comes to my drunken, over-thinking mind. “Ace, I’m sorry.”

  Slowly looking up, he narrows his eyes and lowers his glass. “For what?”

  I shrug, placing my glass down and hopping on the countertop. When I’m situated, I say, “For going all… crazy like that, you know?”

  He lowers his head, smiling. “I don’t recall you going crazy. Simply letting out all you felt.”

  “Which was crazy,” I say blatantly.

  “I’ve seen much worse. Trust me.”

  His understanding—his compassion makes me feel even worse. I don’t want him to understand. I want him to call me an idiot. Make me feel stupid. What I did was stupid. I hate how I acted back there.

  Thinking about how I let that rage consume me makes my eyes thick with unwanted tears. I stare down at the marble floor, hoping to fight them, but it’s too late. To try and block the pain, I take three large sips of my whiskey, but it helps nothing. Drinking is only making things worse. My emotions are all over the place.

  Ace stands on the other side of the counter, his glass clinking as he places it on the countertop again. I can feel him staring at me, but I don’t care. “I’m sorry,” I whisper, lifting a hand in the air. “I just… it’s still a fresh wound for me.”

  Ace remains standing on the other side of the counter, but as my tears thicken, as my sobs grow heavier, I hear his footsteps start my way. They’re slow, but far from cautious.

  He steps in front of me, lifting my chin with his forefinger. I refuse to look up, but he forces me to. Into his eyes, I stare, and I hate what I see.

  Sympathy.

  Worry.

  Something I never thought I’d see in his eyes.

  I pull my face away, and stare down again. He continues staring at me. I know because I feel those heavy eyes on me. Reaching around me for the bottle of Jack, Ace pours me another small glass then sighs as he places the bottle down.

  “Wanna hear a story?” he murmurs.

  I look up. “What about?”

  “Me and Jonah… our old escapades.” He smiles, revealing a straight row of pearly white teeth. Seeing his genuine smile encourages me to want to hear it.

  “Sure.”

  Looking down, he places the palms of his hands outside my thighs, a smile lingering on his lips. “Alright. So I remember the day like it was yesterday. It had to be one of the biggest thunderstorms I’d ever witnessed here. I’d known Jonah for a little under three weeks and usually when we get someone in the business, we make them do shit for us. Like run our errands, make them go out and get beers or drinks for us, or maybe even pick up a few girls we know.” He laughs. “It’s so fucking degrading considering what they really want to be doing in Crow, and Jonah knew it but hardly said a thing about it. But that night, I saw him in a whole new light.”

  I smile as he leans back and stares over my shoulder.

  “It was raining so hard. We wanted some beers from the store and a deck of cards since someone had lost the last pack. We sent Jonah out to do it. He was the newest of th
e group, so fucking scary and shy, but truly honest when spoken to. I remember telling him, ‘Hey, go pick us up some beers and a pack of game cards.’ He said, ‘Okay’ and left right away. Well, there we all were at my place, waiting for Jonah to bring the shit back. Two hours passed, and he still hadn’t shown up, so I called him. He wouldn’t answer the damn phone, so Gerrick and I went by the store to see if he was there and maybe got caught up. He wasn’t, so we went by his place.” He laughs harder this time, as if it just happened yesterday. “I see the lights on in his apartment, and I’m so pissed that he didn’t bring that shit back. I was really up for some cold ones and a few games of Spades. So I pull out my gun, tell Gerrick ‘I got this’, and then rush up to Jonah’s apartment.”

  I gasp, blinking rapidly.

  He shakes his head, lifting one finger as if telling me to wait for the big pun.

  “Jonah wanted in, but he couldn’t even go through with bringing us beers and a pack of cards. So I’m pissed off, thinking I chose the wrong fucking guy to join us and that I had to get rid of him so I wouldn’t look bad as a leader. I knock on the door and it takes a while for him to answer, but when he does, he has a big-ass blanket wrapped around him and a flashlight in hand. I found it weird considering all of his lights were on. I asked him what the hell he was doing here and not at my place, and you wanna know what he said?”

  “What?” I ask.

  “That it was raining too hard, and that he was so afraid of the storm, that he didn’t know what to do with himself other than to go home and hide out. He told me that day that he didn’t wanna look like a pussy in front of any of the guys, and he begged me not to say shit, so I told him I wouldn’t.” He chuckles, shaking his head and standing up straight. He stares past me at the wall, remembering it all. “When I went inside his apartment, I saw how scared he was. He wasn’t kidding. He was freaked the fuck out. So I asked him what his deal was—why he was so scared. I mean, he was a grown-ass man.” Ace swallows hard, finally meeting my eyes. “And he told me the reason why. That he’d lost his parents on a stormy night. That he was home alone when he got the call that someone was coming to pick him up. That all the power was off, and he’d never felt so empty or alone in his life.”

  I gasp heavily, disbelieving my ears. “He-he told you?” I whisper.

  Ace stares me in the eyes. There’s no need for him to respond. He knows. And I know that he knows.

  Sighing, he says, “For some reason, after that night, I felt sorry for him. I hated that he’d gone through such a tragedy. I hated that he’d lost his parents when he was only eleven years old. I think about my parents, how I grew up with them, and I can’t think of a life without them. As a kid, my parents were my world. They remained my world until I got a little older. I lost my mom when I was nineteen and my dad kind of abandoned us way before she’d passed, so I sort of knew how it felt to be afraid, to grow up with little guidance. To be alone. To struggle. From what I understood, the aunt that took you two in was a damn stripper that hardly fed either of you. But you both put up with it. You two survived.”

  The longer I stare into his eyes, the more the tears fall. God, he knows so much. Everything. Thinking about my parents, about Jonah, is enough to really let the waterworks out.

  Ace doesn’t say a word as I break down yet again. He just stands in front of me, and because of my shaky hands, some of my whiskey spills on my bare lap. I gasp from the coolness and stare down at the brown splash through blurry eyes. And it’s just now that I realize my skirt has inched up my thighs. Way too much.

  Ace stiffens before me, and I whip my head up to meet his bright irises. He’s already staring down, nostrils flared, eyes wild. I’m not sure how to react, or whether I should even breathe or not.

  The air is thick between us, the sexual tension impenetrable. I start to wipe the whiskey away with my thumb, but he reaches down and grabs my wrist to stop me. I look up, just as he shakes his head at me. He runs his thumb across the scar on my thigh, passing over the spill. It tingles there. I remember the gash. So big and bloody.

  Lips parted, I lower my hand and place it at my side again. Ace slowly begins to lower his chest, bringing those full, pink lips down. The closer he gets, the more I feel. My skin buzzes with nothing but delight. My heart clambers as I watch his tongue slide through his lips. And then he licks my thigh, sucking every remainder of whiskey away. He breathes down my legs, and I shiver.

  Oh… What’s next?

  I’m anxious to know. I’m so wet down there. So eager. My legs are shaking horribly.

  Luckily, he does exactly what I want him to do.

  Tucking his thumbs around the hem of my skirt, he pushes it up higher until the material collects around my waist. I breathe hard as he places a hand on my chest and forces my body back. “Relax,” he whispers.

  But I can’t. I’m too worked up.

  I do my best, resting on my elbows as he breathes me in. “Smells so good, Red,” he murmurs.

  My walls tighten from the hum of his voice.

  “Watch me,” he insists, running the tip of his nose through the damp slit between my legs.

  “Oh,” I moan.

  He smirks, but in an instant, his face goes solid as he grips onto my waist. Leaning forward, he brings my pussy to his face, eating me ferociously. I cry out a muffled word, one I can’t comprehend, as he devours me with nothing but greed. He grunts, burying his face deeper and deeper. I see the juices on his face, glistening as he flattens his tongue and licks me from my clit to my entrance. I run my fingers through his hair, and he groans, sucking away at my clit. Then, he slows down, and I whimper as he licks delicately. It’s enough to make me want more, and not too much to make me come on the spot.

  I can tell he’s doing this for me.

  Doing it gradually, for my satisfaction.

  As I run my fingers through his silky bed of hair, he lowers one hand to grab my ass and bring me closer. I knock my head back as he grunts and groans between my folds. It’s a vibrating sensation, one I’m thoroughly enjoying.

  Just as I begin to reach my climax, he snatches his mouth away, removes his hands from my waist and ass, and stands up straight.

  I look up at him, breathless, as I meet his eyes. His are just as I remembered.

  Dark.

  In need.

  Without a word, he grasps my hips and brings me towards the edge of the counter. He pulls my shirt over my head, slides my skirt down my waist, and steps between my legs, pressing his hard cock against my thigh.

  “Shit’s gonna be different tonight,” he says, voice gruff. “No running away. No more of you trying to take charge.” He pulls me against him roughly, pressing his chest on mine. “I know I said it before, but no mercy tonight, Red. We’re at your place. There’s nowhere you can go.” He smirks, so demonically sexy that it makes my bottom lip quiver. “Undress me,” he demands. “I’ll make you forget everything for now.”

  He digs in his pocket, pulling out an entire box of condoms. My eyes expand. An entire box? Shit! Is he gonna use the whole thing?

  I know not to say a word. To just to do. So I grab the collar of his shirt, unfold it, and undo his tie. After it’s undone, I begin to unbutton his dress shirt. He watches me as he unbuckles the belt of his dress pants. His pants fall to the ground, he drops his boxers, and boom. There it is.

  His cock springs free. I draw my bottom lip in to bite on it, disbelieving how fucking big he is. As I undo the last five buttons, he rips open the box, tears the foil of one of the condoms with his teeth, and slides it from the tip of his cock down to the base.

  I undo the last button as his hands hang at his sides, waiting for me to take the shirt off. With shaky hands, I reach up to his shoulders and slide the shirt down. He lifts his arm, allowing me to easily pull the shirt free. I do the other, tossing the shirt aside.

  With his head tilted, he looks down at me, and then at my trembling hands. “Nervous?” he whispers, running the back of his finger down my cheek
.

  I shut my eyes, shaking my head. “Not at all.” I’m lying.

  “Good. ‘Cause I don’t want you to be. I want you ready.”

  I open my eyes to look at him. “Ready how?”

  He licks his bottom lip, his eyes flickering from mine to my bra. Reaching behind me, he unclasps it, and it falls to my legs. He throws it aside, pulling me towards the edge of the counter again. The edge of my ass is the only thing sitting on the counter. He grabs my thighs and lifts them around his waist, allowing his cock to poke at my entrance. I pull my lips in and bite on them, wanting him to just do it already. His stalling is unbearable. I want it—him. Now.

  “Fucking you on this counter,” he says, then places a kiss on my collarbone. “Hard. ‘Til I feel you come all over me.”

  I start to nod, but I’m too late in responding. In just one stroke, he shoves his cock inside me, pulling me closer to him by my ass. He clutches it, thrusting in and out as I gasp. When I look up, he’s smirking, head shaking. “Told you to be ready.”

  His face solidifies as he works his way in and out. I claw at his back as he grabs a handful of my hair and yanks my head backwards. His lips press on my neck, and he sucks hard. It hurts, but at the same time, it feels so damn good. There’s nothing like the mixture of pain and pleasure. Nothing like wanting it to stop, but also wanting it to continue.

  I start to work my hips with his, hoping to sync with him and find the rhythm. Once I’ve found it, Ace crushes my lips, kissing me until my lips feel numb. His tongue slips into my mouth, toying with mine, running across the roof. Our bodies continue to rock. My ass is numb on the cold counter, but I don’t care. Everything else feels good. His body against mine feels good. His cock thrusting in and out of me, almost like it’s hitting the pit of my stomach, feels unbelievably good. He tastes good.

  Right now, I’m not thinking about a thing, other than to come all over him. And when he tells me, “Come for me,” I want to. And as he continues hammering me with one hand glued around my ass, the other still locked in my hair, I do.